Red Rabbit - Tom Clancy [231]
CHAPTER 26
TOURISTS
ALL OF THEM WOKE UP about the same time. Little zaichik was first, quickly followed by her mother and finally her father. The Hotel Astoria even had room service, an unheard-of luxury for Soviet citizens. Their room had a telephone, and Irina, after taking down the orders, called it in to the right extension, then was told that their food would arrive in about thirty minutes.
"I could fix it faster," Irina observed, with a hint of sourness. But even she had to admit that not having to fix it wasn't a bad deal for her at all. And so they all took turns in the bathroom in anticipation of their morning meal.
* * *
RYAN GOT HIMSELF showered and found his way to the embassy canteen about a quarter to eight. Evidently, the Brits liked their luxuries as much as American foreign service officers. He got himself a pile of scrambled eggs and bacon—Ryan loved English bacon, though their most popular sausages seemed to him to use sawdust as a filler—and four slices of white toast, figuring that he'd need a big breakfast to make it through this day.
The coffee wasn't all that bad. On asking, he found out that it was Austrian in origin, which explained the quality.
"The Ambassador insisted on that," Hudson said, sitting down across the table from his American guest. "Dickie loves his coffee."
"Who?" Jack asked.
"Richard Dover. He's the Ambassador—back in London at the moment, just left day before yesterday. Too bad. He'd enjoy meeting you. Good boss, he is. So, sleep well?"
"No complaints. What the hell, only one hour's worth of time difference. Is there a way for me to call London? I didn't get a chance to talk to my wife before I left yesterday. Don't want her to worry," Jack explained.
"Not a problem, Sir John," Hudson told him. "You can do that from my office."
"She thinks I'm in Bonn on NATO business."
"Really?"
"Cathy knows I'm Agency, but she doesn't know much about what I do—and besides, I don't know what the hell I'm doing here anyway. Analyst," Ryan explained, "not an operations guy."
"So the signal about you said. Bollocks," the field officer observed tersely. "Think of this as a new experience for your collection."
"Thanks a bunch, Andy." Ryan looked up with a very crooked smile. "I got plenty already, pal."
"Well, then, the next time you do a memo, you'll have a better appreciation for how things are at the sharp end."
"Fine with me, just so I don't get blunted by a brick wall."
"It's my job to prevent that."
Ryan took a long sip of the coffee. It wasn't up to Cathy's but, for industrial coffee, not too shabby. "What's the plan for today?"
"Finish breakfast, and I'm your tour guide. We'll get you a feel for the land and start thinking about how we complete Operation BEATRIX."
* * *
THE ZAITZEV FAMILY was agreeably surprised by the quality of the food. Oleg had heard good things about Hungarian cuisine, but the proof of the pudding is always in the eating, and the surprise was a pleasant one. Eager to see the new city, they finished, got dressed, and asked for directions. Since Irina was the one most interested in the local opportunities, she asked for the best shopping street. This, the desk clerk said, was Vaci Utca, to which they could take the local metro, which, he told them, was the oldest in Europe. And so they walked to Andrassy Utca and walked down the steps. The Budapest-Metro, they saw, was really an ordinary streetcar tram, just underground. Even the tram car was of wooden construction, with the same overhead catenary you usually found over the street. But it was underground, if barely so, and it moved efficiently enough. Barely ten minutes after boarding, they were at Vorosmarty Tér, or Red Marty Square, a short walk from Vaci Street. They didn't notice the man who accompanied them at a discreet distance—Tom Trent—who was quite amazed to see them walking directly toward the British Embassy on Harm Utca.